Life In The Air
by 000TragicSolitude
Summary: Life in the Imperial war machine is not the adventure advertised in the posters, especially in a world with violent rebellion from Faunus partisans.


_Be a part of something. Join the Empire. Explore new worlds, learn valuable skills. Bring order and unity to the galaxy._

The inspiring words echoed in the hall of the Argus spaceport. The recruitment center was decorated with large posters of illustrious ships and uniformed men and women. The line of people looking to get in was quite long, but probably not because they were eager to serve. Joining the military was the fastest way to escape the drab life of even an important city like Argus.

Recruitment spiked in the last few years, as the most of the Empire's forces left Remnant once open conflict ended, as there was nothing to challenge the status quo. While their presence did still remain, what had been Atlas' army and enlisted civilians were doing the job of dealing with whatever was left to terrorize the peace, no matter how little it may have been. Across the spaceport, stormtroopers with blue shoulder pauldrons were of Atlas origin, proudly serving Imperial governor Jacques Schnee.

But this was the only world Jaune Arc knew. " _You were such an ugly baby_ ," Saphron - one of his sisters, jokingly said when they were younger, " _That's why they left as fast as their ships could take them_ _!_ "

His family had stayed back home, except for him and Saph. She brought him here per his request, even if she didn't want him join the military. He did appreciate the older sister looking out for him, despite her relentless teasing, but he made up his mind.

"This is where you sign up for the navy, right ?" He asked the officer at the post once it was his turn, gulping.

The officer was not from here, looking down at yet another local. "You're applying for the Imperial Navy ? Most people sign up for the infantry."

"How long's that going to take ?"

"Depends on how good you are at following orders, son."

If that's what it took, he could deal with it. Air sickness would be his only obstacle, he believed. The officer took his name and provided him with a card.

"Proceed to Transport ID-83 to the naval academy at Mistral. Good luck, Jaune Arc. We'll have you flying in no time."

...

With the view of the eyeball-like cockpit of his TIE Fighter, Jaune navigated through the maze of floating maze of Lake Matsu held up by gravity Dust beneath them. Although it had been his second year in training, he still felt somewhat uncomfortable in the air. The bulky helmet of the flight suit didn't help.

This was the first exercise outside the supervision of a carrier ship, meaning that the would-be pilots were on patrol on their own. The TIE Fighter had no life support systems of its own, nor landing gear or shields. In addition, the view is somewhat obstructed because of the wings on the ship's sides. One wrong move and Jaune would crash into an island or the crystal clear water below. His suit was equipped by a life support piece, complete with breathing tubes, but he couldn't count on that. The same was for the ejection seat, a formality more than actual help.

" _Okay, it's fine. No screw-ups this time."_

"Hey, Jaune," The voice of Flynt called out through the comm, "You haven't puked or anything yet ?"

"Uh, no. We should be back at the ship soon, right ?"

"I don't know," He said lazily, "Maybe we're late, so let's hurry up. Pyrrha and May probably already got there first, though."

That wouldn't be surprising at all. Pyrrha succeeded in every task given by the instructions with ease. Flying was like breathing to her. Flynt's fighter got into view ahead of Jaune, where he thought he noticed something.

"Hold on," Flynt felt the same, "We got company."

What looked like one black dot steadily multiplied into five, then eight. As if hidden in the islands, they clustered together and kept going towards the fighters. As they approached, Jaune could make out the details. Hornet-like, covered in white skeletal armour. Their red wings flapped intensely; they were Lancers. The Grimm charged at the pilots.

"Flynt, we need to pull back !"

He wasn't prepared for combat. They just had to get back, schedule was the priority.

"They're just bugs," Flynt said confidently, "Blast 'em !"

Green fire erupted from Flynt's ship, directly striking the nearest opponent. It burst into smoke, collapsing into multiple parts. Jaune took a sharp turn to his right, barely missing a Lancer crashing into him. The ion engine roared as he accelerated down dangerously near the water. The controls jolted awkwardly with his brusque movements and turbulence of the islands, but his gut told him that he was being chased.

He had no plan, he was running. He descended further, his hands twitching. If they were behind him, he couldn't hear nor see them.

" _Pull up,''_ He screamed as he froze, _"Pull up !''_

Water splashed across the lower part of the cockpit, the fighter ascending just as bluntly. He faced the underside of an island. From above, a Lancer ambushed him from the front, not from behind. It was so close that he could make it the details of its ugly face. There was only one thing to do. He let the L-s1 laser cannons do the work. It exploded head first, its ashes raining on the TIE. He was back in the air, where Flynt soared high. He twisted and turned, firing simultaneously upon two targets ahead of him. The volley of fire destroyed the first by its waist and the last by its head.

"This is fun !" His voice boomed in the comm, "Just like the simulations !"

The sky seemed clear for now. Jaune regrouped with his partner, flying close next to him.

"Seriously," The blonde urged, "Can we go back now ?"

"A little combat exercise didn't hurt," He chuckled, "Can't wait to tell Bolin-

An object suddenly hooked on to the back of Flynt's TIE. Jaune decreased his speed, allowing him to witness what looked like a harpoon that stuck to his partner's engines. A Lancer didn't give up, launching it's stinger to harass its enemy.

"Engine's getting fried ! It's pulling me in-

The comm gave up. Jaune lowered his speed, manoeuvring behind Flynt and his assailant. He could see that the Lancer pulling on the fighter and Flynt trying to advance was putting pressure on the ship.

It moved sporadically across his targeting computer. A shot too early and Flynt would burn instead. The bug moved again, the computer beeped. It moved again, closer to the center - the beeping sped up, filling his ears. The sound stopped, giving him a half-second to hit his target.

 _Fire._ It's back disintegrated, leaving to fall while it still flapped its right wings. But Flynt's engines were ablaze. He was heading down, straight towards a particularly large island. It seemed that Flynt still control, but a crash is a crash.

A TIE had no landing gear, but it could still "sit" on its wings. He couldn't leave him. He could die, and it didn't matter at that point what the instructors said.

Flynt's ship was on the edge of the floating piece of land. One of its wings was destroyed. Once he landed, Jaune ran and climbed the wreckage. He kept trying to break the cockpit, sweating. He grabbed a rock, smashing in against the glass.

He made a hole, stopping when Flynt gave him a signal. He kicked it open with his leg from the inside, coughing.

"I thought you'd ditch me," Coal seemed almost at ease, "Can't really feel my right arm."

Jaune grabbed him, carrying him on his shoulder.

"Great," Flynt sighed, "I'm gonna be shoved in an occupied cockpit. You didn't puke in there or anything, did you ?"

"Did you hit your head too ? I already said no."

"Oh, right…"

With Flynt awkwardly placed inside and wailing, they flew back home to the _Challenger_ \- where trouble most definitely awaited them, or rather Jaune.

...

The _Challenger_ was a Venator-class Star Destroyer, dull grey like all others, although his model of ship was called old, serving as a flight schools The half-kilometer long dorsal flight deck could house hundreds of fighters. The class of cadets of was grouped around Commandant Aresko, standing at attention except for Flynt, who was sent to be patched up in the medical bay. The tall, thin and unusually pale commandant only had his look on Jaune.

"Are you _trying_ to cause chaos, Cadet Arc ? The incident in the simulators, unauthorized firing during an exercise and now _this_ ?"

"I was assisting my partner," He tried his best not to stutter, "It was after we cleared the area of Lancers."

"Irrelevant !"

The officer went on, arguing that Flynt should've been left behind, as he let himself be incapacitated. It was also a waste of equipment to him, even though the TIEs seemed quite cheap to the cadets by now.

"The Empire has no use for weakness," He said, "There is no use for those who abandon the goal to victory to save those who fail at achieving it. There is no friendship in war."

Jaune had no answer, standing silent and waiting for the worst. The other cadets only watched. But another instructor arrived at the group. She made her steps pronounced and loud, establishing a sense of command. The tension in the young pilots was all too noticeable.

Commodore Caroline Cordovin, the owner of the _Challenger_ , had arrived. She preferred to wear the greatcoat over her uniform, something usually picked by the Army. She was also rather… short. The cadets often had to look down on her, but no one dared to call out this trait of hers out loud.

"I don't believe there is any need for such a fuss, Commandant," She said firmly, "He did a good thing."

It always clear that Aresko disliked her. "I don't understand, Commodore…"

"It's true that Cadet Arc ignored the objective of returning the ship in time to save his squadron mate, but Cadet Coal is noticeably more skilled than him. Having saved him, we get to keep a good pilot, but loosing one replaceable ship is of no consequence."

Aresko's responses wouldn't change her mind. She ordered him to dismiss the incident, leaving the cadets to go change. The commodore didn't look at Jaune even once during her intervention. Perhaps he wasn't worth looking at.

Jaune sat in his quarters in the black off-duty navy uniform, feeling he could finally breathe. The heat and sweat of the flight suit was almost maddening, not to mention the outburst of Aresko. But a visitor came. He answered, and he saw the ace in deep red, Pyrrha Nikos.

"Hello," She said with a calming tone, "You're okay, Jaune ?"

"Y-yeah," He struggled to look at her, "I just screwed up again, and it's nothing."

"You shouldn't think about what Aresko and Cordovin said. You did save Flynt, you know. We're not just thrown away."

As much as the ace of the class going out of her way to cheer him up should've worked, it didn't feel like it did.

"Appreciate it."

She seemed to think. "You know, I thought I could help with some training."

"… You … Helping me ?"

"Yes. Wherever and however I can," She smiled, purely, "Sounds good ?"

"Is that allowed ?"

"I can make it so," She chuckled, "If you want, we can start today."

Flynt wouldn't appreciate getting ditched for real today, but Jaune had to seize the opportunity in front of him.

...

Not far outside from Higanbana, Ilia Amitola and her comrades awaited their targets, staying hidden in the woods. The time came when amidst the miserable rain, the Imperial convoy made their way across the muddy terrain on their way to the village as per schedule. The leading vehicles were two long and box-shaped repulsorcraft carrying troops on its sides and cargo on its back. The third was a track-propelled tank, its commander in black and grey sticking out to lead the way while it transported orange crates.

Those ones were for Dust, but they needed to grab everything they could. That included the vehicles. Ilia remembered when the White Fang stood up to the Empire on the field with unrelenting ferocity, with acquired Atlas weaponry and their many followers. Now, they were forced to be mere thieves.

They numbered in the fourteen, but the unsuspecting Imperials outnumbered them in the twenties. Because the group had surprise, numerous Imperials would be picked right from the start. The leader of their group gestured to Ilia and the others to wait for the signal.

She held her rifle steady and put on her mask. They surrounded their pray from both sides, closing in. She already had a target. From above, small objects were thrown in the path of the rumbling convoy. The weather and darkness made the pair of thermal detonators virtually undetectable.

 _Bang_. The flash ignited, throwing dirt and a couple of bodies up in the air. The second was set off beneath one of the transports, stopping it completely. Ilia took the moment to shoot, bringing down the soldier the white pauldron with a swift shot to head.

The next step was to rush them. The predators sprinted out of the trees upon the Imperials, continuing the fire. The enemy's numbers must've dropped considerably by now, but the enemy returned fire. Ilia kept herself low, sprinted towards a lone trooper while bright flashes of blaster fire continued. He didn't see her as she violently kicked him to the ground. She didn't give him a chance to react. She smashed her boot upon his helmet, then once more and more, harder and harder. She was hearing it crack.

She was pouring in her wraith into this faceless enemy, thinking of Sienna. It always came back to that. She saw still it, how a monster in black with the form of man struck her down at her heart with a red blade. She was unable to hear what was going around her now. Then, she was pushed aside. For a second, she was able to look back. It was her squad leader that pushed her. His name was Yuma. She respected the older boy, she remembered that about him the most.

She thought she could never even see his face for the last time before the impact of a blast hit him and sent her collapsing on her back. She felt like she was drifting off, her sense of time was lost. She awakened, and Yuma lay there, burnt and shattered. He was bloodied. His mask was broken. She stood up, coughing blood. She looked back at the battlefield. The tank that had shot them down no longer moved, its handlers being dead.

She crawled towards the body of Yuma, falling to her knees. She stared at his lifeless eyes. The rain still poured, washing off the blood off his face. She closed his eyes.

Looking back again, the vehicles burned, but the cargo seemed intact. Bodies of the enemies were drowning in the mud, along with a few of her fellow fighters. But they'd won. They could get what they needed to continue fighting, all thanks to Asker. He'd done it again.

Yet Ilia Amitola wondered – staring at him again, stroking his hair. If they had won, why was she crying ?

 _..._

 _(A One Shot, cuz why not. Thinking of doing a future one set in WW1, or maybe a short series of WW1 one shots.)_


End file.
